Page 13 of Another One Bites the Lust
Piper drummed her fingers on the desk. “But I can reserve two front-row seats for you, if you like.”
“Yes.” I nodded eagerly. Anything to impress Celeste. “Thanks, Piper.”
“No problem.” She stepped over to one of the bookcases and pulled out a book. “Here you go. Plenty of pictures and short but interesting overviews.” She handed it to me.
I glanced at the book on art history and peeked inside. “Is this a kids’ book?”
“It’s an overview,” she said. “Skim through it and stop on anything you find interesting. Then you can bring it up later.”
I was pretty sure it was aimed for kids, but wasn’t complaining. “Good plan, Pipes.”
“Pipes?” she echoed, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not part of the ship’s plumbing system.”
I chuckled, said thanks, and left the library. After taking the stairs two at a time up to the pool deck, I found an empty chair where I could bask under the sun while I read. Ah, the warm, sunny skies of the Caribbean. So different from our Alaskan route with its majestic views. I opened the book, flipped through some of the pages, and promptly fell asleep.
I stoodoutside Celeste’s suite just before midnight, feeling like a penguin in a sauna. Damn, this monkey suit was uncomfortable. I was sweating in a suit I’d borrowed from the ship’s costume department. It was a little snug in the shoulders.But hey, dressing fancy was the way to go if I wanted to impress a woman like Celeste.
When she answered the door wearing a dark purple dress that clung just so to all the right places, my tongue felt dry. I swallowed. Then her scent hit me, that intoxicating mix of midnight flowers and moonlight.
Mate.
What the hell? That wasn’t my jaguar responding that time, butme. I cleared my throat. “Celeste, you look stunning.”
A small grin spread across her face before she appraised me. “You clean up well yourself.”
“Thanks.” I puffed out my chest but the tightness of the suit restrained it. “I’ve secured us prime seats at the art auction,” I announced in what I’d meant to sound suave but instead came out in a faux posh accent. To run with it as if it were intention, I added, “Shall we?” I offered my arm.
We took the elevators down and headed into the Mermaid’s Gallery. A fox shifter, Sloane, handed us numbers and explained how the bidding worked. Her number was sixty-eight and mine was sixty-nine. It took a tug on my self-control to bite back a dirty joke about it. I wasn’t shooting the shit with my band, and now was not the time to sound immature.
Supernaturals were dressed up in their finest clothes, flaunting their money with fancy jewels. A server handed us champagne, hers tinted pink, and I was sure I knew why.
We wandered through the paintings on display before the auction began. With all the wealth surrounding me, I felt as out of place as an ogre in a teashop. I wished I’d read up on art andhadn’t fallen asleep so I could have something intelligent to say. Damn, this woman got to me good. Not only was I suited up, but trying to discuss art?
Marcel, the vampire who was Piper’s boss, spoke to a couple about another painting. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation but only caught “magnificent” before they moved on.
When we reached the painting, I gaped at the abstract swirls of color, searching for something profound. Pointing out that it lookedswirlydidn’t sound too cultured.
“Now this piece ismagnificent, isn’t it?”
Celeste’s lips twitched. No doubt she’d heard Marcel and realized I was echoing him. “Quite magnificent,” she agreed.
I stared at the painting, trying to drum up something interesting, but nothing came. Instead, I turned the focus on her. “Are you interested in anything particular tonight?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “There’s a piece supposedly painted by a druid. I love a painting with a good story. Fun to point out at parties.”
Ah ha! I knew that painting. I only wish Piper had told me more about it. Celeste’s mention of parties with talk of artwork reminded me how different our worlds were. I’d frequented rock clubs before I’d joined the Moonlight Siren. The fanciest piece of art on the walls was more like a neon flashing sign advertising cold beer.
“Then you must have it,” I declared. What the hell was I talking about? I’d never been to an art auction before and had no ideahow this would all play out—nor how much the artwork would go for.
CHAPTER 9
CELESTE
The Mermaid Gallery dazzled with exquisite paintings in gilded frames. I sought out one in particular—an ethereal painting of a dryad, her luminous skin intertwined with vibrant blossoms and twisting vines.
The auctioneers told us the bidding was about to begin. One of them, a witch, greeted us.
“Van, your seats are saved right up front,” she said with a smile.
